Harry Potter and The Seer's Scroll
by C.M. Carbs
Summary: This is my version of the installment of the 7th year split into two stories. One is during the summer, the other is the actual year. Serious spoilers may occur in any Harry Potter books, and any books that are soon to yet come out. Rated T for violence.


This is my second Harry Potter fanfic. Any suggestions could be e-mailed to me, or sent via comments box. Thanks again, and I'd like to thank my beta reader: Sarah Fenno for helping. Please Read and Review!

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Outside, the skies were always dark and gloomy. Mist filled the emptiness of the world. It seemed that darkness had befallen the world. Both muggles and wizards alike could tell, and feel the darkness. The muggles had no clue what was going on. They never knew that another world existed, and that they were now in war. They never knew. The only person, who did know, was the Prime Minister. Even he would be considered an idiot if he were to tell.

Rufus Scrimgeour sighed a bit. He was leaning on his staff, looking out a window at the Ministry of Magic. There were a lot of dementor, death eater, and giant attacks. He seemed to make Cornelius Fudge go to the muggle Prime Minister often now. Just the year before, he allowed Fudge to contact the muggle Prime Minister to update him on what was happening. It was just his luck to take the job right in time for the war. The war had only just started, and already, the ministry was in chaos. The world was erupting into a living hell all around Scrimgeour, and he was told to contain it.

Scrimgeour sighed, his appearance seemed older then of what he was. He was former Head of the Auror Office. Half of the time, aurors kept running in and out of the ministry. In nearly every office in the ministry, owls kept flooding in, and they were bombarded with so much work it wasn't even funny. Scrimgeour should be glad that he had enough time to even rest like that. After all, he had tons of meetings, and he had the comfort the wizarding world that everything was all right.

Scrimgeour remembered, that last year he approached Harry Potter (the chosen one) twice to ask for his help in comforting the ministry and wizarding world. He had hoped, that with Harry Potter, everyone would seem safer. However, both times he had failed. The world seemed in a deeper slump due to that. He sighed. He just hoped that they all would put up a good fight, in order to save all wizarding-folk alike.

Scrimgeour leaned on his staff. It was made of pure Mahogany wood, and appeared to be just a regular muggle cane. It was made to be extra solid for extra support. He held it out at arm's length as he looked out the window. He sighed at the depressing sight in front of him. It was hectic, and he had to drag them out of it. Everyone was swamped with work, and aurors have been out battling the death eaters. However, of course, it has not been working that well.

The Daily Prophet printed a few days ago, an article about him. They printed a poll, which seemed that the Wizarding Community was disappointed with his work so far. However, there was nothing much that he could do. The ministry was chaotic. The world was slowly tumbling, falling into a deep living hell. Muggle and Wizard alike were being killed daily. Of course, the aurors occasionally killed, or captured a Death Eater. However, what good would it do? The dementors were on Voldemort's side now, and no longer protected Azkaban. Azkaban now resembled a tumbling building with no support. He sighed.

Scrimgeour limped silently to his desk. He slowly sat down in his chair. He was debating what he should do now. The old ex-head of the auror office sighed. He was debating if he should go tell Fudge to go to the muggle Prime Minister. The only thing that would do was just telling one muggle what was happening. It would not help the situation. The muggles might have been seeing this stunts happening in their own backyards, but they did not know anything about it. The Prime Minister could not tell anyone, and probably would have been thrown out of office if he told about them.

Suddenly, he got up. He just realized that if he told about them, the muggle world could suddenly go into war. He swore under his breath and limped over to a painting.

The muggle Prime Minister stood up at the windows of his office. A light mist was falling in a dark and glum sky. He sighed a bit. He knew why all of this was happening, but if he told, he would not be believed anyway. There was no use. There was nothing he could do anymore as the world began to crumble and fall. At every scene, the suspects all fled before the police would arrive. He knew the source – Magic. However, he could not tell anyone. No one would understand, no one would believe. All hope was lost. He sighed a bit.

A painting on the far corner of the room began to speak. It said, "To the Prime Minister of Muggles. Your attention is needed yet again. Please respond immedientally, Scrimgeour."

The minister sighed. Whenever the other minister wanted to speak with him, the painting talked to announce their arrival. The stupid frog-like man with a white wig always talked with that other minister wanted to talk to him. Several times, he tried to get the painting off the wall, or cremate it. Everything failed. He sighed a bit. He still could not believe that freaks clad in robes would appear at his fireplace, and tell him stuff that he could not tell anyone else. "Yes," he muttered aloud to the painting.

The fireplace suddenly erupted into dazzling green flames. The flames licked at the sides of the fireplace, but they were not scorched. Suddenly, a man appeared in the flames, spinning around fast like a top. After a few seconds, the man stopped spinning, and stepped out of the fireplace. Rufus Scrimgeour dusted off his robes, and looked at the muggle Prime Minister, and said, "Good Evening Prime Minister."

The Prime minister looked at his new guest. He had always had Fudge come to his room, now it was Scrimgeour. Fudge introduced them a long time ago, just last year actually. Eiather way, he hated being spoon-fed information from people in robes. He was a politicion for crying outloud! He did not need to be fed information, and not tell anyone about it. He sighed a bit and looked at Scrimgeour. "Good Evening Scrimgeour. Please take a seat," he said as he took a seat at his own desk.

Scrimgeour looked at the Prime Minister and nodded. He walked over to the chair, and sat down. He looked over at the Prime Minister. "Alright, right down to business, as you can clearly tell, I'm not like Fudge," he said rather fast, "Alright, I take it that you haven't told anybody about these meetings?" he asked, questioningly.

The Prime Minister looked at Scrimgeour, and nodded. "Of course not. Who in their right mind would believe me anyway?" He asked, being infuriated.

Scrimgeour looked at the Prime Minister flatly. "We cannot take any chances. Now, I advise you not to tell anybody at all."

The Prime Minister looked at him. "Why is that? As I've said, no one would even believe me, damn it!" He said flustered.

Scrimgeour now up on his feet. He looked at the Prime Minister. "Because if you do, it might start one of your silly muggle wars. Then, truly we would be in hell! It is bad enough that the wizard world is in war, we don't need a muggle war!" He said, now becoming infuriated.

The Prime Minister was up now too. "You cannot tell me what to do!"

Scrimgeour looked at him. "I think that we both know that you don't want a war, and I'll suggest you'd do the right thing."

The Prime Minister nodded a bit. "Right." He sighed a bit. "Oh, alright, fine. I won't tell." He said with a nod.

Scrimgeour nodded. "Alright good." He got up and started to walk over to the fireplace, and threw a powdery type thing into the fireplace. Suddenly, the flames turned green again. "Well, I'll be going now. Good bye Prime Minister." He said as he stepped into the green flames and left.

The Prime Minister shook his head, and continued his work.


End file.
